


Takeru: Dream

by Mathais



Series: Digistuck: Takeru's New Universe [2]
Category: Digimon Adventure, Homestuck
Genre: Crossover, Dreambubbles and God Tiers, Gen, and Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathais/pseuds/Mathais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is TAKERU TAKAISHI, and you remember a life you lived before as a god.  You don't want to sleep, because you dream, and that scares you more than even Devimon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Takeru: Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters/elements of Digimon or Homestuck; Bandai and Toei have the former, Andrew Hussie, the latter.
> 
> Notes: Written in a like two hour spurt of interest; apologies for any mistakes.

Your name is TAKERU TAKAISHI.  You are the CHOSEN CHILD OF HOPE or soon you will discover, and you are one of the seven CHOSEN CHILDREN taken to the DIGITAL WORLD to defeat its evils.

But you remember being TAKERU TAKAISHI another time, in another universe, where SBURB existed.

You ascended to the GOD TIERS and defeated the final boss, winning the right to a changed universe.

You did it atop a hill of bodies made by your friends.

And now you remember it all, as you clutch PATAMON'S DIGI-EGG to your chest.

You don't swear all that much as your current self, but you do it now in your head because that TAKERU TAKAISHI is flaring up too much.

Fuck everything.

**OoOoO**

You stop thinking in capitals because it's getting annoying, and some of the Takeru from now is finally, finally bleeding through.

It's been days since you first remembered.  Now, you hug Tokomon's fluffy, furry body to your chest as you close your eyes and feign sleep on Piccolomon's cool ground.  Everyone else seems to be soundly asleep, but you know that Yamato has been watching you.  You've barely spoken since Angemon's death and rebirth, and he probably thinks that it scarred you.

It has, but it's just one more scar among the many in your heart.

Even now, having Tokomon seems like a miracle.  Your partner is soft and wonderful against you, and his gentle breathing is comforting.  And he remembers his past, he remembers you.

He doesn't feel like the ghosts who surround you.

You remember it all.  You remember burying them, one by one, and crying with each new grave and monument until you had none left to give.  That they all now surround you seems like a goddamn miracle in itself, but part of you still can't believe it's real.

Part of you feels so alone, lost in this sea of familiar faces and yet unfamiliar pasts.

You didn't have the same bonds to these Chosen Children as you did the Heroes from before.

Taichi doesn't remember taking a blow for you, one that left blood, his powerful blood, seeping through his shirt and painting your face red, all the while smiling and telling you it'd be okay.  Though he tries, he doesn't have the same presence.

This Jou never touched your broken arm with healing hands, breathing life into a damaged limb.  He never smiled and dried your tears through the pain, never shared his experiences as a younger brother.

There is no Hikari here, no Hikari to hide in the back with, warding off anyone who came near as she sniped with her bow.  No Hikari to commiserate with being the youngest, frailest of them all.

Sora never held you as you cried and cried and cried over being homesick, over missing your mom and your dad and the comfort of being safe in your home.  She never regaled tales of her mother and father to you, about her heirship to her mother's ikebana school and all of the missed opportunities.

You didn't compare strife specibi with this Mimi, complaining that sure her whip and gun specibi were awesome and covered a wide range, but there was nothing as comfortable as your Excalistaff.  You never had mock-duels with this girl, each pushing the other to the limits.

You never argued openly with this Koushiro, as his Mind warred with your Seer powers.  He was all about knowledge and facts and using it to defeat your enemies, but as Seer you knew and guided based on Hope, and you could never put those flashes of insight into concrete data for him.

And this Yamato never protected you in the same way your—his—your Yamato did.  As soon as Mimi could teleport, Yamato demanded that you be brought to him, and you never left his side until those final moments at the Reckoning.

You mourn them even as their living ghosts surround you.  Those who shared your journey have died, and though you have your new journey, it is not the same.  It will never be the same.

You can't help but take your Sburb experiences with you.  They're an integral part of your now.  To those who can see, it is obvious in the way your walk, ready to move and dodge at a moment's notice.  It is in the way your body remains uncoiled, because tension wastes energy and that was something you had far too little of in the Medium.  It is in the way your scan the horizon for threats, because safe is a concept which you can't bet on when you're alone on your own planet.  You don't speak, because speaking reveals the time you've spent talking, maturing, into a coarse but stronger vocabulary, after talking with and learning from your sprite and the others.  You even power through the trip through the desert like a boss, because it's nothing to that first day when you were weak and scared and alone.

At least you have friends now.

Yamato worries because you've barely slept.  When you sleep, you dream, and you're not used to dreaming the regular way anymore, where you aren't awake on Prospit all by yourself because everyone else has already become God Tier and merged with their dreamselves.

When you sleep, you relive their deaths again and again, until you wake up and, ignoring whoever is currently on watch, do exercises until you fall asleep without dreams.

You think that Piccolomon sees something in you, because he doesn't push you like the others.  You take part in the chores, yes, but he can tell that you don't need any more discipline, as the game has forced that into your in spades.  He looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with you, because he can't shove you off into a cavern like he did Taichi and Agumon since he doesn't know what's broken.

Everything's broken.  He cannot do anything to fix you, because he's not the one who can heal you—it's not his place.  It's just not within his considerable powers.

Eventually, the stress of the day and of traveling gets to you.  With Tokomon's breathing even against you, you, against your will, eventually drift off.

You sincerely hope that you don't dream your normal dream.

**OoOoO**

"Who's this douchebag?" you hear upon dreaming.

Your eyes snap open at hearing an unfamiliar voice.

There are four... people around you.  At least, you think they are people.  Two of them are human, you're pretty sure.  One is wearing the God Tier clothes of a Knight of Time, the other, of a Seer of Light.  The other two are stranger.  One is a lot taller than you, but she has bright skin and, in a strange sort of way, is quite pretty.  The other is sort of short, maybe only a little taller than you are, and his skin is gray.

And they have horns, and fangs, and sort of claws.

The short one's horns are kind of stubby actually and kind of cute too.  You sort of want to pet them.

You nickname him Nubby Horns in your head.  He is the one who spoke, actually, and it looks like he's going into an impressive tirade.

"...and will someone tell me who this shitty new pink mammal is?  And why are his fucking eyes normal?"

The Seer of Light clears her throat. "So, yes, I'm sorry.  We were not expecting any guests on our journey, particularly ones who we haven't met before.  I see you're a Seer of Hope?"

You wonder how she knew before you realize that you are in your God Tier clothes, the ones that you spent relatively little time in.  Merely looking down at yourself, at the bright yellow colors and those damned wings on your chest, sucks your breath away.  It's a reminder of who you were—are.

"I, I'm, Takaishi Takeru," you manage to stutter out. "I'm...  I'm not sure where I am right now, actually."

"Of all the goddamn places in paradox space you could end up, it had to be here," Nubby Horns mutters.

Shiny Skin elbows him in the side, and he chitters back at her.

"It appears that, from your garments, you're a Sburb player," the Seer of Light continues, tilting her head to the side. "I wasn't aware of any other sessions on Earth, particularly ones who've achieved God Tier."

"I'm pretty sure I'm from a different Earth than you," you say. "I mean...  I think.  Unless this is all just a dream in my screwed up subconscious, but it's too real for that."

"If we are just figments of your fucked up subconscious," the Knight of Time drawls, "then I'd question your fucked up tastes."

"Let's just say different universes and different sessions then," you decide. "I mean...  I _won_ my session." You don't want to think that multiple sessions ran on your planet.  That'd be far too cruel, for the hurt that occurred and the hope that breeds in your chest thinking that there may be others out there.

There's silence after your proclamation.

"You fucking won your session?" Nubby Horns snarls. "You mean you fucking won your session, and you're standing here in your goddamn God Tier clothing and fuckity fuck fuck, are you fucking serious?  You mean we still have to deal with this shit even afterward?"

Shiny Skin elbows him once more. "I apologize for my companion, but if it is true as you say, how are you still in your game clothing?  Will our powers continue with us after the game's conclusion?"

Here and now, clad in your clothes of gods, you feel powers that you no longer have in your waking self.  You are the Seer of Hope once more. "I can't say.  I don't have any powers in my normal body.  Just...  Just my dreams." You look down at your hands. "This is the first time this has happened actually."

"Well, we are traveling through the dreambubbles," the Knight of Time says. "Maybe there's something about that.  Wouldn't put it past this shitty game."

"I think you may be onto something there," the Seer of Light continues.

"So my old, God Tier self is now my dreamself," you say.  It would make sense, sort of.  The game has done weirder things before.

...you're in the dreambubbles.

You're in the goddamn dreambubbles, you suddenly realize.

"You're traveling through my dreambubble," you say softly. "You're traveling through my dreambubble, and I'm fucking God Tier.  I have a goddamn dreambubble," you exclaim out loud.

You have never had so much hope before.  Never, ever, ever.

The Seer of Light looks at you, and there is knowledge in her eyes. "Dead players have their own dreambubbles," she confirms.

She knows.  How can she not?

"What the fuck is wrong with this human?" Nubby Horns shouts, but you don't care.

"Quiet, Nubby Horns," you absently say and ignore the Knight of Time's subsequent laughter.

There is hope now, so much hope.  Hope that you can see coalesce in the air in front of you, shining clearer than anything before.  You know the path you need to take.

And it is breathtakingly beautiful.

It fills your chest, spreading warmth into the numbest, darkest parts of you.  You drink from that wellspring greedily, because it is what you need.

When you open your eyes again or, rather, focus your eyes on the here and now, Nubby Horns and the Knight of Time are arguing, but the Seer of Light is looking at you with a warm gaze.

"Thank you so much," you say. "I can see now."

"It is no problem," she replies.

"How about we trade stories?" you suggest. "I'm not sure when I'm going to wake, but I have time." Making yourself comfortable on the ground, you watch as the other four approach.  They're all older than you, taller too, and they look like they've been through a lot.

There's a huge part of you that's curious about other sessions, if they were as fucked up as yours (but you survived and won, so there had to have been worse, you figure).

You exchange names first.  The Seer of Light is Rose Lalonde and holds herself with a regal air, but you're think her hair is really shiny and pretty and don't hesitate to say so.  (She smiles indulgently at you and pats your head.)  The Knight of Time is Dave Strider, and he mixes references to Western media which you don't know with a crude sort of humor that appeals to your little kid sensibilities.  You're in awe of how cool his shades are. ("Don't touch them," he says when you reach like the guilty little kid you are, but he decaptchalogues an extra, less cool pair for you to moon over.)  Nubby Horns ("You're calling me Nubby Horns in your head, aren't you, you nooksniffer?") is Karkat Vantas and of an entirely different species called trolls, and he has an incredibly loud and colorful language with words you really don't get ("What's a nook?" you question innocently and watch his face color red really, really fast) but with a sentiment you understand.  Shiny Skin is Kanaya Maryam, and she's tall and sort of pretty in an elegant sort of way and scary sort of way too, and she secretly smiles when you say as such. ("Thank you for your complement," she says, and you're enthralled again by her shiny skin.)

You tell your story ("You're only eight?" Dave squawks as Karkat curses up a storm, and Rose and Kanaya give you sad glances), about your trials and your slow win.  They applaud the fact that eight of you with no combat experience managed to do what you did, and they grow quiet at your retelling of your final battle.  When you say that you've had eight years of being a normal, but that you're involved in something different now, Karkat looks to the side and mutters an encouragement hidden in invective, and you smile softly.

They give you pause and encouragement before beginning their own tale.  It's slow and halting, with more time shenanigans and you ever thought possible.  The locking of two universes, the threat of Lord English and the void and null sessions, the pain of their own loss hidden in their voices.  It takes time, far more time, and more than a little of your talking skills to wring even the barest of the stories out, but...

It's good, very good.

In the fading silence of their current events, you can feel the pull of wakefulness.  You offer them a kind smile as you say, "I think I'm going to wake up soon."

"Safe travels then," Rose says, from one Seer to another.

"I hope you find your friends," Kanaya tells you.

"Never give up," Dave drawls out and gives you a fist bump.

Karkat doesn't look you quite in the eyes, but he chitters, "Good luck, bulgelicker.  You've survived your game, so enjoy your victory."

You don't know if you'll ever see them again; paradox space is wonky enough even if you didn't consider cross-universe, especially universes like theirs that didn't exactly have their fates intertwined, complications.

But you've gotten hope, hope that'll let your scour paradox space and brave the horrorterrors for your friends.

And you've given them hope as well—that there are games out there that have been won.  That there is something at the end of it all.

You could do no less.

"Good luck on your journey.  Hope exists for all who continue to believe in it," your murmur your truth, and it looks like they believe, even if they before doubted.

"Bye bye, Nubby Horns!" you wave, and you laugh through his curses as the world fades before your eyes.

You honestly wish them the best of luck.  They have a Seer of Light, which pretty much insures that they do, but...  It looks like they need hope more, and you hope, sincerely hope, that you gave them that.

**OoOoO**

You awake to Piccolomon's resounding alarm.  Though your dream has made you a bit slow, you still snap awake instantly, because those reflexes saved your life more often than not in the game.  Despite not seeing Yamato and Koushiro, you don't worry, too busy working through your thoughts.  It is with a lighter step that you work through the chores of the day.

Piccolomon corners you by yourself.

"Little Takeru," he chirps, "are you better now?"

For such a small Digimon, it is obvious Piccolomon has seen and done much.  He is a _Perfect_ after all, and so much stronger than Greymon or any of the other Adults you've fought with and against.

"I'm getting there," you admit.

"I don't know what you've been through, but you're a warrior and a survivor," he says. "That is something I cannot teach, pi.  You have scars in your heart that I cannot heal, pi, but...  You look better."

"I know what I have to do," you say.

Piccolomon smiles at you. "Good, good little Takeru, pi.  But remember, pain shared is pain halved, pi."

"I know," you say.

You intend to share your pain, but not with these Chosen Children.  You now know that somewhere out there in paradox space, your friends are in their dreambubbles.  And you, with your God Tier self in your dreams, can traverse that space and those dreambubbles to find them.

You will find them.

And you will cast yourself in front of them and plead for their forgiveness.

There is now a purpose, and though your waking moments are spent surviving against these incredible odds in the Digital World, you've survived much worse in Sburb and are even now plotting how to obtain the future full of hope you want.

You are the Seer of Hope, and now you see.


End file.
